Tampering
by TeddyMo
Summary: My take on what I hope will have after Smile
1. Chapter 1

A.N. This is my first attempt at a story. The ending of "Smile" bothered me so much, I had to get the angst out of my system. I don't own them, they belong to Mr. Wolf, and a good thing, too, because there would be a missing persons report on Eames just about now.

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She had been waiting in the SUV for about 15 minutes, wondering what he could be doing, when one of the uniforms approached.

"Detective Eames?"

"Hi, Nelson. What's up?"

"Not much. Detective Goren asked me to tell you he was going to catch the train back up to downtown."

She sat there for a several seconds, somewhat stunned by the fact that Bobby had left on his own, without saying something to her himself.

"Detective? You all right?"

"What – Oh, yeah, Nelson, fine. OK. Thanks for letting me know."

"Not a problem", Nelson said, waving to her as he headed back to his cruiser.

Eames continued to sit there, thinking back over the events of the last couple of hours. She had been stressed going into this case, after their last one where the man who had really killed Joe was finally in custody. At first, she had been truly upset with Bobby's pushing the issue, but now, after the event, she was glad he had done so, painful as it had been for her. Because of the pressure on NYPD detectives to find Joe's killer, and the lies told by one of drug dealers involved in the undercover buy Joe was working at the time, the wrong man had spent 9 years in prison, and his 18 year old son had thrown his own life away by seeking revenge on the dealer and on Joe's partner, Kevin, who had backed the lies told by the dealer as to who had shot Joe. It was Bobby who had ultimately broken both cases, and she freely admitted to herself that she had tried to deter and obstruct him, giving him a terribly hard time throughout the investigation, both because she was too close to the issue and because she, as the daughter and granddaughter of cops, had a hard time accepting that cops, too, can lie and make mistakes.

She should have taken some time off afterward. She knew that now. But before she could make the request, this case had come in, and they found themselves investigating a coverup involving tainted mouthwash that young children were drinking for a cheap "high" because of the alcohol content. Unfortunately, the dentist had received a donation of knock-off mouthwash made overseas and had used it as a sample in "goodie" bags he passed out to children who came into his dental clinic. The mouthwash company had finally recalled its own product from the market in order to eliminate the knock-off from sales because it contained anti-freeze used as a sweetner, but the owner of a small grocery store who had bought a large supply of the fake mouthwash had donated it to the dentist for a tax break, and three children had died as a result. The cases involving children were always the hardest on her, and, she knew, on Bobby, too.

She finally started the SUV and headed back to 1PP herself, thinking about how Leslie had attempted to play Bobby, trying to make him think she was acting as a "whistleblower", when all she really wanted was her boss's job. And to get it, she was willing to lie, conceal information and to kill. She realized now that Bobby wasn't buying it, that he thought there was something "off " about Leslie, but she had to admit, she wasn't over the stress of the case involving Joe's killer, and she was mentally tired and not thinking clearly. She really thought Bobby was falling for Leslie's act, and was in some way attracted to her. She also realized now that she herself had hurt Bobby terribly.

Leslie's outburst caught her by surprise. Leslie had ranted at them, telling Bobby he would never make senior partner, and that she herself would be brought down by Bobby's insubordination and instability. Nor would she ever make captain. Like she cared. And she knew that all Bobby wanted to do was the job, catch the bad guys – when Bishop had been Bobby's temporary partner during her own maternity leave, Bobby _had_ been the senior partner, and hated every minute of it.

And Bobby's question about whether she felt that being partnered with Bobby had tainted her own career had also caught her off guard. Yeah, before she wrote the letter, she had worried about it, and that's why she wrote the letter in the first place. But after she withdrew the request for a new partner, she never gave it another moment's thought, and now couldn't imagine herself ever working with anyone else. That was what she had really meant by her response, "it's too late" – too late for her to go back to working with someone conventional, someone who followed the rule book and towed the line. No matter what the NYPD said about following its rules and regulations, ultimately it was results they wanted, and she and Bobby did get results, no doubt about that.

As she drove, she chewed her lower lip and thought about what she was going to say to Bobby back at 1PP. She needed to explain what she meant, that she hadn't meant to hurt him, that she didn't consider her career to be tainted by him, but rather, enriched by him. After all, she hadn't taken this job to be noticed.

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Walking into the squad room, she looked around, but didn't see Bobby anywhere. Hanging up her jacket, she started to cross the room to her desk, only to see Captain Ross beckoning to her from his glass-walled office.

Entering the office, Captain Ross rose from his chair, walking around the desk to sit on its corner, as was his habit when talking to his detectives. "Shut the door, Eames".

Puzzled, Eames did as he asked, and sat down in the chair he gestured to. "Captain? Is something wrong?"

"Your partner called in. Why didn't he ride back with you?"

Looking down at her hands, Eames sighed. "I ------- said something to him that hurt his feelings, Captain. Pretty badly, apparently."

"What?"

Heaving another sigh, Eames launched into an explanation of what had transpired at the offices of the mouthwash company. Ross listened attentively, arms folded across his chest, until she finished. He didn't say anything for several minutes, and she finally asked, "Captain? What did Bobby say?"

Ross looked at her for several more seconds before he said, "Goren said he would be by later this evening with his paperwork on the case. Then, he asked for the last two weeks of his personal leave, which I OKed. And he asked me to give you a message."

Eames could feel a lump forming in the pit of her stomach, as well as one in her throat. "What's the message, Captain?"

Ross looked at her again for a short time before sighing, rising from his seat on the corner of his desk, and walking over to sit in the chair next to her. "He asked me to tell you that it was never his intention to drag you down or to keep you from pursuing your ambitions because you were forced into partnership with him. To advise you of his decision to take his last two weeks of personal leave, and to ask you not to try to contact him during that time……and that he would be exploring other options regarding his own career during the remainder of his leave."

Ross watched, somewhat alarmed, as the color drained from Eames' face. "Eames? Are you all right?"

Eames just looked at him, stricken. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Taking a deep breath, she tried again. "He asked for a transfer out of Major Case?"

Ross nodded. 'After he told me what had happened at the company offices, he requested a transfer, if he doesn't resign from the NYPD altogether."

_God, this was just getting worse_. "Resign? Bobby loves being a cop, Captain. He loves Major Case." She looked at him with tears in her eyes, something Ross had never seen, even when she had been dealing with the case involving her own husband's murder. "What have I done?"

Ross got up from his chair, walking around to sit behind his desk once again. "It's been a rough couple of weeks for both of you, Eames, especially for Goren, since he's still grieving about his mom. After what the Chief of D's told Teresa Quinn at the funeral home --- "

Eames, who had risen from her chair and was pacing in the small area in front of Ross' desk, stopped mid-stride and looked at Ross, confusion written all over her small features. "What did he tell Teresa?"

"Goren didn't tell you?"

"No. How would he know what the Chief said, anyway? He wouldn't come inside at the funeral home. He said he didn't have many friends in there."

Ross looked at his hands. He had been standing there when the Chief said it, and had heard from another officer who had been standing outside smoking and overheard what Quinn's son said to Goren. The officer, not realizing who Ross was, had laughed about the kid telling Goren what the Chief said, and Ross had given him a dressing down the man wouldn't soon forget. While he freely admitted to still being somewhat leery of Goren's methods, he had come to realize that Goren truly did understand human nature and was deeply ethical in his outlook and methods. The fact that someone in a position of authority such as the Chief had said what he did about Goren, in public, truly pissed him off. Looking back at Eames, and sighing once again, he told her, "The Chief, at the funeral home last week, told Teresa that Goren was a whack job. Teresa's son overheard what was said, and while riding his skateboard outside, bumped into Goren and asked him if he knew the detective who let his father's killer go free, and said the Chief had told his mom that detective was a whack job."

Ross didn't think it possible, but Eames got even paler, and sank back down into the chair where she had been sitting. "Oh, no. He asked me how it was inside, and after I told him how hard it was, he only said he wasn't too popular outside, either. Captain --- " Eames paused for a deep breath --- "I was so sunk in my own misery – I hadn't seen anyone there since Joe died. After everything quieted down, there wasn't a place for me in that crowd anymore. They stopped calling, or including me --- " She stopped again, unable to go on for the moment.

Looking at her sympathetically, Ross said quietly, "So, you know how Goren feels about being a misfit, or an outcast."

Startled, Eames looked up at Ross. "I --- never thought of it quite that way, Captain. But yeah, I guess I do, at least to some degree." She thought for a minute, and then said, "The Chief was here listening in when Delgado's son confessed. He should have apologized to Bobby."

Ross snorted. "Eames, the brass do _not_ apologize to anyone. You should know that by now." Studying her, Ross leaned back in his chair. "So then, Eames. Tell me, do you think having Goren as a partner has tainted your career?"

"I could have asked for a transfer or put in a request for another partner at any time, Captain. In fact, I did do that once."

"Yes, I know."

She was quiet for a moment, looking down at the floor. Then she said, almost inaudibly, "I hurt Bobby that time, too."

"He got over it."

Looking back up at Ross, she said, just as quietly, "He won't get over it again."

Once again getting up from his desk, Ross again perched on the corner. "Maybe not, Eames. But I'm going to tell you the same thing I told him. File your paperwork – you can do it at home, like Goren, drop it off tomorrow – and take two weeks, too. You need a break from the Quinn case, this case, and from each other. No contact. Then, before any permanent decisions are made, we will have a meeting and see if this can all be worked out."

Nodding, Eames rose. "Sounds like a plan, Captain. Will you do me a favor, though?"

"If I can."

"Will you talk to Bobby in a day or two, and let me know how he is?"

The ghost of a smile crossed Ross's lips. "Funny. He asked the same favor of me."

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Entering his apartment, Bobby dropped his keys on the counter dividing the kitchen from the living area, laid his badge down beside them, and put his binder on his desk next to his computer. He was tired, so tired. Numb. Numb was good, at least until he could get the case paperwork done and dropped off back at Major Case. Deciding to take a quick shower and put on something more comfortable, he wandered into his bedroom, removing his tie as he went. On autopilot, he hung up his suit jacket and tie, sitting down on the bed to remove his shoes, placing them neatly side by side on the floor of his closet as though their placement was the most important thing in the world. He removed his cuff links, placing them in the box on his dresser, putting his shirt in the laundry bag and hanging his slacks up with the same meticulous care he had shown with his jacket. _Don't think, don't think, keep occupied_ --- his mind repeated, over and over. He knew if he stopped for a minute to consider the day's events, he wasn't sure he'd be able to function any better than he had immediately after his mother died, and he had found himself alone to deal with her deathbed revelation about his questionable parentage. Something else he hadn't fully processed yet.

After a quick, hot shower, he dressed in an old comfortable pair of jeans and a well-worn, soft sweatshirt. Sitting down at his desk, he booted up his computer and dealt with the case paperwork as quickly as he could, trying not to dwell on anything beyond filling out the forms correctly and putting his case notes down on paper without considering anything deeper than being as concise and accurate as possible. He worked as quickly and efficiently as he could for about an hour and a half, then printed it all out, reviewed it and signed where necessary.

Gathering everything back into his binder, he pulled a leather jacket from the closet, slipping his badge and keys into the pocket and his weapon into a clip on holster he attached to his belt at the small of his back. Picking up his cell phone, he dialed.

'Major Case, Sanchez."

"Sanchez, Goren".

"Hey, Bobby. You just missed Eames."

Sighing with relief, because missing Eames, at least physically, was his intention, he asked, "Is Ross still there?"

"Nope. He and Eames were in his office for a good hour talking, and when they came out, he left. Eames cleaned her desk off, and she headed out about 20 minutes ago. Did you need something?"

"No, thanks. I'm going to stop in myself in about 20 to drop off some paperwork. Thanks, Sanchez."

"Later, Bobby."

Closing the phone and dropping it into his pocket, Bobby picked up his binder and headed out the door. _Don't think, don't think, keep occupied ------ _

He walked into the squad room, waving at Sanchez across the room, entering Ross's office and dropping the paperwork on his desk. Crossing the room to his own desk, he starting checking through the paperwork there, filing some of it away, stopping to complete and sign a form here and there and putting them into his outbox, which he knew administrative support would empty in the morning, seeing to it that they got to the next person in the chain.

Once he had cleared his desk of paperwork, he went to the supply closet, where he knew he could find a box to put his books in to carry to his car. Relieved that no one was paying attention to him, Bobby quickly packed up his reference books and the very few other personal items he had in his desk, and without stopping to say anything to anyone, headed for the elevators. He never looked back.

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Eames was laying on her couch, wrapped in an old, worn afghan her mother had made for her and Joe during the early days of their marriage. The television was on, its sound low, but she wasn't paying any attention to what was on the screen. She had come directly home from 1PP, and, like Bobby, showered and changed, then disposed of the case paperwork, putting it into a folder in her briefcase to drop off at Major Case in the morning. Turning off the lights, she had wrapped herself up and lay down, hoping to bore herself to sleep with some mindless TV, but so far sleep was eluding her. She kept flashing back to the expression on Bobby's face and in his eyes when she had told him it was too late. A quick flash of what could only be called anguish, and then his expression had blanked; she herself had quickly turned away to talk to the uniforms about Leslie's transport to holding.

She had just closed her eyes, hoping that if she did she would begin to relax and drop into sleep, when her cell phone rang. Groaning softly, hoping it was and also that it was not Bobby, she was surprised to see the Major Case number on her caller I.D., knowing that Ross had taken her and Goren off the call out list for the next couple of weeks.

"Eames".

"Hey, Alex, it's Sanchez. I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"Hi, Carlos. No, I'm just here on the couch watching TV. What's up?"

"Bobby was here a little while ago --- "

"I know, he was going to drop off some paperwork. Why?"

"What's going on with him?"

Swallowing the lump that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in her throat, she said, "Why do you ask?"

"Because when he left – he took all his stuff."

At that, Alex sat up on the couch. "What do you mean, all his stuff, Carlos?"

"You know, his stuff. His books, and his little gadgets he keeps in his desk."

_Oh, my God. He really means it ---- _

Sighing, and trying to keep the tremor from her voice, she said, "Carlos, do me a favor?"

"Sure, Alex."

"Bobby's taking the rest of his personal leave from his mom's death. I'm taking some time, too -- the last couple of cases we handled were pretty tough."

'I hear that, Alex. You really kept it together on the Quinn thing, and I know Bobby was upset, too, because he had to dig into Joe's case to get the guys. You know Bobby would never do anything to hurt you deliberately, Alex."

Taking a deep breath, Alex replied, "I know, Carlos. And the truth is, between you and me --- "

"I won't say a word, Alex."

"I know. I said something stupid today that really hurt Bobby's feelings, and --- well – he thinks he's hurt me just by being my partner. We have to get it worked out, but Ross wants us to have a break from work and from each other."

"Geez, Alex – I don't know what to say – but I hope you can, and do. I'd hate to see either of you leave Major Case, or have to have a new partner. I don't think Bobby could handle it without you."

"Truth is, Carlos – I don't think I could handle it without Bobby, either."

"Well, get some rest, Alex. You both deserve a break, you've been through a lot lately."

"Thanks, Carlos. Talk to you soon".

"Night, Alex."

Closing up the phone, she put it down on the table, then picked it up again, deciding she should let Ross know about this latest development. Pushing speed dial 2, she waited – "Ross".

"Captain, it's Eames." She couldn't quite keep the tremor from her voice this time.

"What happened, Eames?"

Swallowing hard, she said, "I just got a call from Sanchez at Major Case. When Bobby dropped off his paperwork, Carlos said he packed up his books and gadgets and left."

It was quiet on the other end for a moment, and then Ross said, "OK. Thanks for letting me know. I'll call Goren in the morning and see how he is, see if I can get him to open up any more, and then I'll call you with an update."

"OK, Captain. Sorry to bother you this late."

"Don't worry about that, Eames. In fact, try not to worry, all right?"

"Easier said than done, Captain. Good night."

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Eames."

Once again putting the phone down on the table, Alex did something she hadn't done much of since Joe died. She cried.


	2. Chapter 2

A.N. -- Wow, guys !!! I guess "Smile" really touched a chord with everyone. Thanks for the reviews.

I still don't own them. If I did, Eames would be on bread and water.

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Entering his apartment for the second time that evening, Bobby set the box of books on the floor near his desk, emptied his pockets on the counter, and hung his jacket in the closet. He then dropped heavily onto his couch, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. He had considered stopping at Delaney's and getting rip-roaring drunk, but changed his mind, deciding he didn't need to be physically sick as well as heart-and-soul sick, and really not in the mood to be around other people anyway. Besides, being drunk would do nothing to ease his pain. There wasn't that much alcohol _in _New York City.

Only then did he let himself consider Eames' words. "It's too late". His heart had begun to pound while Leslie was screaming recriminations at him, but her taunt that he would never be senior partner held no weight with him. Been there, done that with Bishop, and he hoped never to be there again. He hated having to deal with the brass any more than he absolutely had to, and had no patience with the narrow mindedness and tunnel vision men like the Chief of Ds exhibited, as evidenced by the shoddy investigation into Joe Dutton's murder. Take the first plausible answer offered, and don't bother to look any further. Make the pieces you have fit, don't look for the right ones. Because of that attitude, the wrong man had served 9 years in prison, and in order to put the right man in his place he had had to rip Eames' heart out all over again, even though it had been necessary so that justice could truly be served and there was no replay of the travesty the Dutton case had turned out to be. If that made him a whack job, so be it. At least, in that regard, he could sleep at night. So to speak.

What _had_ cut him was Leslie's raving to Eames, that she would never be captain, that his own insubordination and instability would bring her down. And, it seems, Eames herself had had that same fear at one time. But now, "it's too late." Had he truly harmed her advancement by remaining partners with her? Did Eames _want_ to advance in the ranks? They had never discussed that aspect of their careers, and he thought that she, like himself, was content where they were. He knew she hated the "good old boy" aspect of the force. He did, too. And sure, she had at one time requested a new partner – he didn't blame her for that, as he had never really expected her to stay in the first place. But when the letter came to light during the Garrett case, four years after the fact, she had been so terribly upset that ADA Carver had pounced on her plea to the defense attorney to allow her to explain, and her rebuttal testimony that she had come to appreciate Bobby as an ethical person and effective police officer touched him deeply. He had tried to convey his gratitude by telling her he was lucky she withdrew the letter, and he had never spoken truer words. Obviously, time had since changed her perception of him, and their partnership.

He knew he hadn't been the best partner over the course of the last year, taking out his frustrations and fears over his mother's illness on her, but they had worked that out, or so he thought., He knew, though, he would feel guilty about it for a long time to come. And, they were both worn down by other events – Jo and Declan Gage, the Wiznesky case, his mom's death – he hadn't told Eames about the possibility that Brady was his biological father, because he himself had yet to come to terms with that – and then, on top of it all, the Quinn murder. He figured they were both lucky neither of them had yet had some kind of meltdown. Maybe this _was_ the meltdown.

Well, there was something he could do about it. He could set Eames free, to pursue whatever other goals she wanted to achieve. He could remove the millstone from around her neck, and take himself out of the picture. There was nothing to tie him down to the NYPD, or even New York, now that mom was gone. His brother neither wanted or needed him, except perhaps for a handout when he had a bad run in Atlantic City, and he was not inclined to enable Frank's addictions. Leslie's accusations and Eames' reaction had felt like someone had stabbed him with a red hot knife, and then twisted it to do the maximum damage. As painful as the wound was, he would bear it as he had borne all the other heartache in his life. A clean break was probably the best, sever all ties at once and move on to a new life, so Eames too could move on. That's what he would do.

His mind made up, he rose from the couch and walked to the closet, pulling from it a suitcase and garment bag. He had savings, and he would be paid for his accumulated sick and vacation time from the force, which was a fairly good amount, as well. He had Army buddies in Washington, D.C., who had urged him for years to explore his options with the government. Time to take their advice. He'd make several phone calls in the morning, and then head out. If he was lucky, he'd be gone by the end of his two weeks. He went to his bedroom, and started packing.


	3. Chapter 3

A.N. I didn't want to leave everyone hanging toooooo long , wondering what Eames is doing in light of her monumental _faux paux_. I truly hope that this is what the writers have her feeling --- either way, her life situtation is her own fault. If she truly had further ambitions, she shoulda left Bobby before he became so attached to her, which he is, whether you're a shipper or not.---and, if she had no further plans beyond being Bobby's partner, she shouldna said what she said to him.

Anyway, they are still not mine. And Eames, if you don't wanna work with Bobby any more, I'll be more than happy to. ;0) Your loss, girlfriend.

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_Crème brulee. _

Her consciousness rising toward awakening, Eames inhaled deeply. The scent of freshly brewed crème brulee coffee filled her nose, forcing her to crack open one eye and peek at the clock on the beside table. 7:30 A.M. _Oh, God, didn't I just close my eyes?_ – was her first coherent thought of the day.

The second one, crashing upon the first, was the remembrance of the pain flitting across Bobby's face, quickly as he managed to suppress the expression. Fully opening both eyes, Eames stared up at the bedroom ceiling, feeling the weight of yesterday's events settle upon her again. After talking to Ross last night, she had turned off the TV and come in to lie down in comfort, hoping to get at least some sleep. _Some_ was all she got, as she tossed and turned most of the night, dozing fitfully off and on. She closed her dry and burning eyes again, an after effect of the tears she had shed, as was the headache throbbing steadily behind them.

Deciding there was no sense laying there and thinking coffee might help a little, she got up, sliding her feet into the slippers setting next to the bed. After stopping in the bathroom, she made her way to the kitchen where a travel cup of freshly brewed coffee sat in the coffeemaker. Reaching for the cup, she stopped, letting her hand fall to the counter as fresh tears filled her eyes. The coffeemaker had been a gift from Bobby for her last birthday. Knowing her addiction to coffee, _good _coffee, he had given her several over the years of their partnership --- every time the technology evolved, Bobby would buy her a new one, either for Christmas or her birthday. And part of his gift each Christmas was a subscription to a coffee service, so she never ran out and always had a variety of flavors on hand.

Sighing deeply and refusing to start crying again, she removed the cup from the machine and stirred in her sugar and cream. Walking back to the living room, she picked up her cell phone, checking for any missed calls, once again hoping and dreading that there would be a call from Bobby. Nothing. Putting the phone back down on the table, she walked back to her bedroom, deciding to take a long, hot bubble bath and then take her paperwork in to 1PP. Maybe by then, Ross would have talked to Bobby.

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Two hours later, Eames walked into the squad room, paperwork in hand, and headed directly for Ross's office. Hearing her tap on the frame of the open door, Ross looked up. "Eames. Come in."

"Good morning, Captain. Have you talked to Bobby yet?"

"His cell phone went directly to voice mail", he said, taking the file folder she handed him. "Let's call his landline now. You can at least listen to my end of the conversation."

Ross dialed the phone and then leaned back in his chair, waiting. After a minute, during which he frowned while apparently listening to Goren's answering machine, he sat up and put the receiver back in the cradle. "Who is Lewis?" Ross asked Eames.

"Lewis? He's Bobby's best friend from childhood. He owns an auto body shop where Bobby hangs out sometimes, helping him work on cars to relax. Why?"

"Because the message on Goren's machine says he'll be out of touch for a few days, and in case of an emergency, to contact Lewis, and gives a phone number."

Eames just stared at Ross for a few seconds, and then pulled out her cell phone, flipping it open and scrolling for a phone number in the index. Finding what she was looking for, she pushed a button and waited. "Lewis? Hi, it's Alex --- yeah. Good. You? Good. Lewis – do you know where Bobby is? No, he didn't --- it's a long story, Lewis, I'll – tell you about it later, OK? I just need to know where he went --- D.C.?" She looked at Ross – "Yeah. Did he tell you why he was ---- Oh. Oh. OK. I see. Lewis, do me a favor, OK? Please, do _not_ tell Bobby I called if he calls you, OK? Yeah. Tell you what, I'll stop by around lunchtime and we'll go eat, and I'll tell you the whole story, OK? OK. Later, Lewis. Thanks. Bye." Closing the phone and dropping it into the pocket of her jacket, Alex sat back in the chair and as Ross watched, in a gesture strangely reminiscent of Goren, rubbed her eyes with her right hand.

"Eames? Did I hear you say D.C.?"

'Yeah, you did." Sighing deeply, Eames sat up in the chair again. "Apparently Bobby called Lewis last night and told him that he was taking the rest of his personal leave, and since he was no longer tied down to New York because of his mom, he was going to explore some other options to see what's out there and do some hard thinking about his life. Bobby doesn't have a lot of friends, but he made a few really good ones when he was in the Army with C.I.D., and a couple of them have been bugging him for years to look into employment options with agencies where they have contacts. And, too, the F.B.I. has put out feelers a couple of times, which Bobby always politely rebuffed. Lewis is no dummy, though – he thought Bobby's story sounded a bit off, and he was wondering if there was more to it, which, of course, there is. So I'm going to meet him for lunch and tell him the whole sorry tale. At least, the part of it that's not classified."

Ross sat quietly, watching as Eames' eyes wandered across the squad room, coming to rest on the adjoining desks where she and Goren normally sat. He knew she was wondering if she'd ever sit there with Goren again, and her expression was so sad, so lost and full of remorse that his heart went out to her. "Sounds like he's not wasting any time."

Her gaze came back to Ross, and he could see the tears shimmering there. "No, he isn't, is he?" She paused for a minute, thinking, looking down at the floor. "Captain – I'm so sorry I caused this mess."

Ross leaned his elbows on his desk, his hands steepled in front of his face, and thought for a minute. "Do you have ambitions to rise any higher in the ranks, Eames?"

Standing up and walking around to lean on the back of the chair she had been sitting in, Eames also thought for a few seconds before replying. "At one time I did, Captain. But working with Bobby was so outside any experience I had had on the job up till then ---- Captain, my dad was a cop. My grandfather was a cop. I have cop brothers and a fireman brother. I thought the 'blue tribe' was inviolate and infallible, because that's how I was raised. I can't begin to tell you how proud they all are of me, because I've risen higher than anyone else to this point. But then, I was partnered with Bobby, and at first, quite frankly, he scared the crap out of me. Bobby has no family ties to the department like I do, and no preconceptions of the job. I thought for certain he was going to get us both tossed off the force --- the brass and the D.A. were always leery of the way he worked, and vocal about it, too -- but the longer I was with him, the more I came to realize that it didn't hurt to think outside the box, as long as we didn't do anything illegal or unethical. And, too, I noticed that the brass were happy about the results, and had no qualms about giving us the most difficult cases --- but they also made no bones about calling Bobby names behind his back – "whack job" just being one of many, and actually, one of the kinder ones. And I came to realize that I didn't want to be part of a two-faced bunch like that." Looking at Ross, a faint smile crossed her face. "Present company excluded, of course. No one could ever accuse you of being two-faced, Captain."

Ross rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Detective. But between us, I know exactly what you mean about the higher-ups. It's called politics." He thought for a second. "How does your family view Goren?"

"They like him. They know that no matter what the brass says about him, he's straight up and always has my back. He respects me ---- or at least, he did." She looked down at her feet again. "I wish I could say the same about me having Bobby's back. Me and my big mouth." There was a faint quiver in her voice.

"You and Goren have never talked about career ambitions?"

"No. Not really. I know Bobby has no ambition to get any higher than he already is, although he did take the sergeant's exam when he was working Narcotics, and in charge of those sting operations. Bobby absolutely _hated_ being senior partner when he worked with Bishop while I was on maternity leave." She paused for a second, and then continued, "It's not that Bobby doesn't know _how_ to be in charge or take command. He will, if he absolutely _has _to. He truly doesn't _want_ to."

Ross nodded. "That's been my impression, too. But ---" Pausing, he decided there was no better way to say what he was thinking --- "Do you think he's over-reacting to what you said?"

"No." She walked around and sat back down in her chair. "If Bobby thought that I had put my own career and life on hold because of him, this is exactly what he would do. Right now, he thinks he's an obstacle in my path, and he thinks he's rectifying the situation. " She rubbed her eyes again; they were still dry and itchy from last night's crying jag. "The thing is, now he's got the idea in his head that he's been holding me back, it will be hard to put it to rest. And to be honest, right now I'm not sure how to go about convincing him that I have no regrets about our partnership. I don't want him to think that I stayed because I felt sorry for him, or because of a misguided sense of loyalty, or even because I had no other options open to me. That's just not true. I withdrew that god-awful letter and stayed because _I _wanted to, not because anyone persuaded or coerced me into it." She sighed heavily. "I should never had said what I did, or at least the way I did. This is all on me, Captain. If our positions were reversed, I'd probably feel the same way."

"I see. Well, until I talk to Goren, I don't see that there's anything more we can do. I left a message on his voice mail to call me, that I needed to talk to him as soon as possible. And Eames --- " She looked up at him, questioningly – "Don't be too hard on yourself over this. Both of you have had several bad breaks over the last year, and it was bound to take a toll."

Eames nodded, rose from her chair and headed for the door. "Thank you, Captain, for at least trying to make me feel better. I'll call you if it turns out Bobby told Lewis anything more than we already know."

"Keep me in the loop, Eames."

But Lewis knew nothing they already didn't know, and so all they could do was wait.

**_A.N. #2 -- This may be it for awhile, at least until we all see where they're going with this on the show. I hope this doesn't end up too-too AU, althought if it is, oh, well. I can't read minds from this distance. Bummer that we have to wait two weeks. _**


	4. Chapter 4

**A.N. -- I've tweaked and tweaked over the last two weeks, and in thinking about it, I think that Bobby's trust in Eames would be deeply shaken after what she said to him. That kind of upset is very difficult to overcome, especially for a sensitive soul like Bobby. That said, they still don't belong to me. I'd be trading Eames in on a newer model if that were so. **

**A.N. #2 -- I've pulled this chapter twice for additional tweaking, so for anyone who was looking for it, I do apologize. I promise to leave it alone now. **

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Bobby returned home late Tuesday afternoon. He had spent his extended weekend with his friend Mark, with whom he had worked in C.I.D. while stationed in Germany. Mark had remained in the service, and after putting in his 20 years, went to work for "the agency", aka the C.I.A. While Bobby had no desire to become a "spook", he knew his C.I.D. and NYPD experience, profiling abilities and linguistic skills made him an attractive potential employee to several law enforcement organizations, the F.B.I. in particular. While he had made no decisions, he was satisfied with his assessment of available career opportunities. Mark was always urging Bobby to "explore his options". They touched base with one another every few months, the last time when Mark called upon hearing Bobby's mom had passed away.

After quickly flipping through the small pile of mail his building superintendent left for him and finding nothing of interest or importance, Bobby picked up his suitcase and garment bag and took them into his bedroom to unpack. Dropping the suitcase onto the end of his bed, he laid the garment bag over it and sat down on the edge of the bed himself. Laying back, he took a deep breath and tried to relax for a little while before he started putting things away, tending to his mail and returning phone calls. He let his mind drift, and it began to replay the conversation he and Mark had had on Saturday evening --------

"So, Bobby, what changed your mind about leaving the NYPD?"

Leaning back, Bobby sat his beer down on the table next to him, then rubbed his eyes. Looking at Mark, he asked, "Did you read about the Sno Mint mouthwash recall?"

"Yeah, I did. Matter of fact, I trashed the bottle I had, went out and bought another brand. It's a shame about those little kids. Why?"

"Well, yesterday, Eames and I arrested a young woman for murder. She worked for the FDA, assistant to the deputy director assigned to the New York area. She tried to make me believe she was acting as a whistleblower, when all she really wanted was to discredit her boss so she could have his job. Give the devil their due, he was _totally_ incompetent, she was the one who had actually been running things. Anyway, she tried to use me as part of her scheme. When we started checking on _her_, we found out she fabricated parts of her past, pretended to be a Yale graduate, things like that. And in the process she killed a fellow employee who really _was_ a whistleblower, who was _actually_ trying to get the product off the market. Instead of acting like she should for someone in her position, concerned about the public welfare, she saw the whole thing as a career opportunity. Said the kids were stupid --- everyone knows you don't swallow mouthwash, you swish and spit."

Mark just looked at Bobby for a few seconds. Shaking his head, he said, "Wow. Takes all kinds. What a cold hearted bitch. But what does that have to do with you deciding to make a career change?"

Bobby closed his eyes for a second, and sighed deeply. Opening his eyes again, he said, "This girl did some background research on me and on Eames, as well. When we put her under arrest, she started raving I'd never make senior partner, that I was unstable and insubordinate." He paused for a second, then went on, "And she told Eames she would never make captain, her career was tainted by me, and she'd better watch that my instability and insubordination didn't bring her down with me."

Once again, Mark just looked at Bobby for a time. "Man. That _is_ intense." He thought for a minute, and then said, "OK, so, I know you have no interest in the senior partner stuff. You complained about it enough when you had to work with what's-her-name. Unstable – eh, I can see where it might _look _that way to someone who doesn't know you and how you work, and I know you realize _that_ yourself, so that's not too much of an issue for you. Insubordinate --" Mark scratched his head and frowned slightly, "I don't know I'd call it that, exactly. The Dilbert principle says you put the most ineffective employees where they can do the least amount of damage, and that's how the NYPD picks most of its brass, so ---" He shrugged, "I can see how you doing your job despite them could be _taken _that way." Getting up from his chair, Mark said, "I'm getting another beer. You want one?"

"No, I'm good. Thanks."

Walking around behind the small bar in the corner of the room and pulling a beer from the refrigerator behind it, Mark said, "So, it must be the part about Eames that's got you so freaked out. Did you talk to her about it?"

Bobby got up and walked over to the bar, perching on one of the stools in front of it. "Not really."

"What do you mean, not really?"

Resting his elbows on the bar, Bobby rested his head in his hands. "When the unis took this girl away, I asked Eames if she had ever worried about what she said, that being my partner had tainted her career. She said she _used_ to --- and when I asked her what about now, she said –" Bobby paused and swallowed, hard -- "She said, 'Now? It's too late'. And she wasn't being funny or sarcastic like she usually is, Mark."

Mark looked at Bobby intensely for several seconds. "Are you sure, Bobby? You guys have been pretty tight for a long time."

"Yeah, Mark. I'm sure."

"Then you need to have a sit-down with her and find out exactly what she _did _mean. Because I can't believe she meant that the way it sounds."

Rousing himself from the reverie he had fallen into, Bobby sat up and swung his legs from the bed. Sighing deeply, he pulled his suitcase onto the bed and opened it to begin sorting its contents. He knew he had to talk to Eames. And to be brutally honest with himself, now that he had had some time to consider, to think it through, he knew that even if she hadn't meant what she said, or even didn't mean it the _way_ she said it – how would he ever be sure? How could he work with her, day in and day out, having to weigh everything she said to him, wondering if she truly meant what she said, or if he was taking it the wrong way? _Partner _was more than friend, more than your own family; every day, you guarded each others' lives with your own, and failure to have your partner's back was unforgivable. The level of trust necessary between two people for that kind of bonding to be possible had to be unquestioned by either of them. That Bobby was able to question it was almost a deeper sorrow than the loss of his mother, and to him, it meant that he was now truly alone. Even after he talked to Eames, it may truly be too late.


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N. -- This is some of what Eames has been doing (at least in my mind) since her lapse of judgment. I feel somewhat better about her since the ending of Depths -- but she ain't out of the woods yet. And they're still not mine. **

**Also, I tried to be a little more descriptive, and I hope I've done better -- but I kind of like being able to paint my own mind picture of settings and people and places when I read other stories, and so, I hope I've been able to find a compromise between the two. And, folks wanted to see more Lewis -- so here he is-- **

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Eames tried hard to keep herself busy during the time Bobby was in D.C. Not really able to settle into doing any one particular thing, she drifted aimlessly from one thing to another in a futile attempt to distract herself from the fallout of her off the cuff, why-didn't-I-put-my-brain-in-gear-first comment to Bobby. Most of the reason behind the restless, low-level anxiety she felt stemmed from the fact that although she and Bobby certainly spent time apart from each other, she had taken for granted the fact that at the end of those separations they would reconnect, go back to work, things would pick up where they left off, and they would continue on as they had before. Now, she no longer had that certainty to look forward to. She had no idea what to expect or what she would find when she went back to work,and it was extremely unsettling. One thing was certain – she had a much better understanding of how Bobby must have felt during the early days of their partnership, when he wasn't sure whether she would still be there when he arrived at 1PP each day. If what she was going through was any indication, it was a miracle he hadn't developed an ulcer.

She was once again on her couch, wrapped in her old afghan, with a steaming mug of spiced chai in her somewhat cold hands. This day, Tuesday, had been spent sorting through her clothing and shoes, making piles to go to Goodwill, to her seamstress and shoemaker for minor repair, to the dry cleaners, and a few things for the trash, then rearranging the rest in her closet and dresser drawers. Eames was not, by any means, a clothes horse; she preferred unadorned, basic pieces that she could wear season to season and year to year that didn't go out of style. She would rather have fewer pieces of better quality that she could mix and match as necessary. The pile for Goodwill consisted mainly of things she had purchased, worn once or twice, and realized they had been a mistake, along with a couple of things in larger sizes she had had to get through her pregnancy and the months afterward while getting back to her usual weight. Her chosen task hadn't really taken all that long; once complete, she had loaded her car and dropped everything off where it needed to go, returning home after a quick stop at the grocery store. Putting her purchases away, she decided it was late enough in the day to indulge in a long soak in a tub filled with fragrant bubbles, along with a glass of wine and some soft music.

Afterward, dressed in comfortable sweats and socks, she returned to the living room after a stop in the kitchen for her cup of chai, and she was now curled into a corner of her oversized, plumply-stuff ed couch, afghan thrown over her legs. Not in the mood for TV, she permitted the music to continue to play as a background for her thoughts, which took her back to her lunch several days ago with Lewis, after she left 1PP ----

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"Detective Alex!!!" Lewis called when he saw her come into the shop. Alex couldn't help but smile at his exuberant greeting. Right now, the only other person _that _happy to see her was her nephew.

"Hi, Lewis. Whatcha working on there?"

Laying his wrench down on the bench and picking up a rag to wipe his hands, Lewis grinned as she walked toward him. "Loosening the bracket bolts, getting ready to pull the engine for an overhaul. It's an 87 Buick Grand Nationale."

"I see. Not too many of those around anymore."

"No, not in this condition, anyway. Most of them are only good for parts. This one at least will run. Once we get the engine done, we're going to do a brake job, some transmission work, and then see about a couple of rough spots on the body and a new paint job."

"What color?"

"Probably the same as it is now, black. The guy who owns it wants to have some artwork done, unless he changes his mind in the meantime."

"Nice." Alex walked around the car looking at the places where it was apparent some body repair was needed. "You ready for lunch?"

"Sure. Just let me wash my hands. The polish deli OK?"

"Great".

They walked the two blocks to Fedorovski's, enjoying the sunny but cool autumn afternoon. Inside the deli, they were greeted effusively by the owner, Jorge Fedrosvski, who knew both Bobby and Lewis from the time they were teenagers hanging out at the auto shop once owned by Lewis' uncle and now by Lewis. After Alex and Bobby became partners and he had introduced her to Lewis, there had been many times when the three of them had come here for lunch --- sometimes when they needed the benefit of Lewis' expertise about vehicles while working a case, but also on several occasions when Alex had taken them up on their offer to join them on a Saturday afternoon to work on a particularly interesting vintage car. Seating themselves at one of the small tables in the cheerful, brightly lit, spotlessly clean establishment, Alex sighed, hoping those days hadn't come to an end. It had been quite awhile since they had come here.

"Lewis!!! Alexandra!!!" Jorge, a small but rotund bald man with a gray handlebar mustache, bustled over to where they were sitting, bending down to hug Lewis and then kissing Alex on the cheek. "Good to see you !!!! Where is our Bobby, eh? We not see him since his mama pass, God rest her. How is our Bobby doing?"

Lewis said, "He's fine, Jorge. Out of town for a couple of days. He should be back Tuesday or Wednesday."

"Good, good. He is a fine man, our Bobby. A good son. He love his mama very much, he take good care of her, but now she is gone to God, maybe he find a nice girl and have some babies of his own, eh?" Jorge winked at Alex, who could feel the color rising in her cheeks. Jorge was an incorrigible matchmaker, and Alex knew he only desired to see everyone as happy as he and Anya, his wife of 45 years, were. There was no use trying to get the idea out of his head. Even though Alex managed a smile for Jorge, she couldn't help but think she'd be very lucky if Bobby was still speaking to her after yesterday, let alone anything else.

Laughing his booming laugh at the color in Alex's cheeks, Jorge threw up his hands, saying, "Enough of an old man's teasing. What I get you to eat today, eh? My Anya make pierogies fresh this morning, and cabbage soup, also." Taking their orders, Jorge strolled back to the kitchen to fill them.

Lewis and Alex indulged in more small talk about the different vehicles he had at the shop needing repair, until Jorge brought their food and left them to eat. After several minutes of watching Alex push hers around the plate, Lewis said, "OK. Spill it, Alex. What's really up with you guys?"

Glancing up from her plate and seeing the deep concern in Lewis' eyes, Alex sighed and put her fork down. Pushing her plate to one side, she rested her elbows on the table, steepling her hands in front of her face, and proceeded to tell Lewis those parts of the preceding day's events she could, particularly the part about the phone call she received from Sanchez about Bobby's visit to 1PP the previous evening. Setting his own fork down Lewis leaned back in his chair and said, "He cleaned out his desk?"

"Yeah. That's what Sanchez said, and I checked when I was on station this morning. It's all gone, Lewis. His books, his light-up magnifying glass, all those other little gadgety things he kept in his drawer. Gone."

"Wow." Lewis' gaze became unfocused, thinking as he looked out the large storefront window without really seeing anything. Silence reigned for several minutes, and then he looked back at Alex. "You know how he is, Alex. He always has that fear in the back of his mind, that if he gets too attached to someone, lets them in too far, trusts them too much, they'll eventually end up leaving him. And he doesn't roll with that too well."

"I know." She looked at her hands, folded on the table in front of her, then back at Lewis. "That's why I'm so afraid, Lewis. I know he forgave me for that stupid letter, but I'm not sure he'll forgive me again. And I really didn't mean it the way it came out – it's just –" she paused and took a deep breath, "It's been so hard for both of us over the last year or so. We seem to be pulling and being pulled in six different directions all at once." She stopped again, breathing deeply, crumpling a paper napkin in her hands, straightening it out again, and then recrumpling it.

"Yeah. And too, it seemed like his mom started having breaks more and more often a couple, three years back, and then she got cancer --- " Lewis stopped talking for a minute, considering, and then asked, seemingly off the subject, "Did he ever mention Irene to you?"

Alex looked up at Lewis, gazing at him intently. "His former girlfriend? " Lewis nodded.. "Only once. We needed some inside information on a case that we could only get from a stockbroker, and he mentioned that he used to date her, so that's where he went to get the information we needed. Why?"

"Well --- " Lewis thought a second before continuing, "He and Irene dated when Bobby was working narcotics. He was undercover pretty deep in that last big sting he ran before he transferred to Major Case, and he was out of touch with just about everyone for several months."

"Yeah, I know. He told me it was a good thing it went down when it did, because if it had gone on much longer, he wasn't sure he'd have been able to get himself back out again."

"Yeah, that's what he told me, too. Anyway, before that all got started, he'd been seeing Irene pretty steadily, and he was kind of optimistic that they would be able to make a go of it, she seemed to be understanding about his work, and his mom. Hell, she worked pretty long hours herself, or so she said." Pausing to take a drink of his cola, he went on, "Turns out, she had been seeing this Carlos dude she's living with now off and on while Bobby was out of touch whenever he was undercover."

"Oh." Alex looked out the window, watching people walk by for a minute or two, and then said, "He never told me that."

"It was pretty painful for him. He didn't _want _to talk about it much, and it wasn't long after he put in for the transfer to Major Case. And he's never really tried too hard to connect with anyone since then. I mean – " Lewis paused for another drink, "He knows it was for the best now, but he never really dated all that much after that, not at all since – well, he saw that Denise girl a couple of times, the one that works for the Chief of Detectives --- but the Chief sort of has it in for Bobby and he didn't want to put her in a bad way with her boss. He wasn't all that interested in her, anyway. And too, his mom began taking up more and more of his time – and, like you said, the past year or so has been really bad for both of you."

"I know it has, Lewis. But that still didn't give me the right to say what I did."

Lewis gave her a sad smile. "Maybe not. But you're the only person he's really connected with in a long time, and I know he doesn't want to lose that. Have you tried to get in touch with him since yesterday?"

"No. When he talked to Ross last night, part of his message to me was to ask me not to contact him." She gazed out the window again for a minute, then said, "I'll give him another couple of days, then I think I'll call him." She gave Lewis a half smile of her own. "After all, I do _everything _he tells me to do, right?"

Lewis laughed. "That's the spirit, Alex. Make him talk to you." He got serious. "Don't give up on him – and don't let him give up, either."

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Tossing the afghan to one side, Alex got up, going into the kitchen for a chai refill. Putting the kettle on, she leaned against the counter while waiting for it to heat. She had talked to Ross earlier in the day; Bobby had not returned his phone call, and Ross was also inclined to let it ride until he was back in New York, saying that it might be better for all of them if they just got together face to face. Alex was inclined to agree with the face to face part; however, she thought it would be best if she and Bobby talked on their own. Roused from her thoughts by the whistling kettle, she turned it off and refilled her tea cup. First thing in the morning, she was going to find out if Bobby was back, and if so, she was going to track him down and they were going to have a long overdue discussion to try and save their partnership – to say nothing of their friendship.


	6. Chapter 6

**_A.N.--- Well, here is my version of the "big talk" between Bobby and Alex. I've been tweaking for over a week, and don't think it will get any better than this. There's a wealth of material in their relationship to work with -- too much for one story. I hope everyone is somewhat satisfied with my take on this whole thing. I deliberately came to a non-resolution resolution, because there is so much they haven't dealt with in their individual lives and with each other. Hopefully it will all work out in the end. And, they are still not mine. Jury is still out on Eames._**

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Before climbing into bed Tuesday night, Lewis called to let Eames know Bobby had arrived home earlier that evening, and to wish her luck the next day. Thanking him and hanging up, Eames lay back in her bed, staring up at the ceiling in the darkened room with a myriad of thoughts about tomorrow whirling through her mind. It was a long time before she slipped into a fitful, dream-filled sleep. At 6 AM, awake yet again, she gave up and got out of bed. She knew Bobby rarely slept past 7, when he managed to sleep at all. Might as well go to his place and get this show on the road.

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Bobby, too, lay in his bed but with his eyes closed, trying to relax himself enough to get at least a couple hours of sleep. Having reached the conclusion that before anything else he and Eames needed to talk, he steeled himself to call her first thing the next morning to make arrangements with her to sit down and hopefully have a calm, rational discussion about the future of their partnership and their friendship, if indeed one existed for them. He tossed and turned all night long, occasionally dozing off for short periods. He finally got up at 5:30 to put coffee on to brew before hitting the shower. He needed the stimulant badly this morning; it was shaping up to be a long day already.

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He was sitting on the sofa just before 7, flipping through the morning news channels and working on his second cup of coffee, when the knock came at the door. Wondering who would be out visiting at this hour of the morning, he looked through the peephole to see only the part in a head of dark blonde hair, and realized with some dismay that it was his partner. Groaning softly and letting his own head fall softly against the door – it was _way_ too early in the morning for this – he recognized that ready or not, here she was, and taking a deep breath, he opened the door.

They looked at each other silently for a minute or two, each taking in the other's appearance. He noticed that while Eames had combed her hair and put on lipstick, she wore no other makeup; there were faint, dark smudges beneath each eye and a translucent, drawn quality to her pale, smooth skin that told him she hadn't slept well for at least a couple of days. Dressed in jeans and a plain black pullover, she also wore a leather "biker's" jacket and black running shoes in place of her customary heels. The difference in height made her look deceptively fragile and delicate, and had things been normal between them, he would have smiled at how far from reality that observation truly was.

For her part, Eames noticed the return of the dark circles and sunken quality which had characterized Bobby's eyes during the last months of his mother's life, although they had nearly disappeared during the time after her funeral once he was able to get back to a somewhat more normal schedule. They weren't quite so prominent as before, but were still an indication of his level of stress, and he looked tired. He was wearing old, loose fitting jeans and an NYPD t-shirt, socks but no shoes. As he leaned against the edge of the open door, she could see the slump to his normally square shoulders, all of which told her that he hadn't been handling the past several days well, either.

Swallowing hard in an effort to keep her voice steady, she said, "Hi. Can I come in?"

He gazed down at her for several more seconds, and she could see the deep sadness in his soft, dark eyes. "Sure", he said quietly, moving away from the door to allow her to enter the apartment.

"Thanks," she answered, just as quietly. "I brought bagels, in case either one of us feels like eating them." She set the bag in her hand on the counter next to his phone.

He shook his head, going into the kitchen. "I'll make fresh coffee."

Eames watched him move around in the small area, putting coffee beans in the grinder and filling the well in the coffeemaker with fresh water. Shrugging out of her jacket and hanging it on the back of the high-backed stool next to the small counter before she sat on it, she was struck by the grace of his movements and thought about what a bundle of contradictions he was. He was physically strong, but his heart and soul were so fragile and vulnerable; his movements were normally so graceful, and yet when excited about a discovery made during an investigation, he could be so awkward, almost bumbling, dropping everything and practically falling over himself in his haste to show others what he saw. Articulate and verbal when arguing for the acceptance of one of his profiles or theories, he could be shy and stammering as a schoolboy when socially uncomfortable. And he could be so brilliant and intuitive, making leaps of logic that connected seemingly unrelated and irrelevant scraps of information and knowledge, connections that in most cases provided the key to unlock the solution to many of the cases they worked. On the other hand, he could be clueless to the point he couldn't see what was directly under his nose – especially when it came to himself and those closest to him.

She was so lost in her thoughts that when a mug of freshly brewed coffee, prepared exactly as she liked it, appeared in front of her she nearly jumped off the stool. "Sorry", Bobby said softly, "I didn't mean to startle you. Do you want to sit in the living room?"

"It's OK. Sure", she said, sliding from the stool, carefully holding the hot coffee in her hands. Walking over to the couch, she sat down, setting the mug on the coffee table, then waited as he walked around the table and sat down in his large, overstuffed leather reading chair. Ironically, his chair was quite similar to the one they found in Jim Kettle's apartment, and Eames briefly wondered if Bobby was able to find any peace himself when sitting there. Mirroring her movements and setting his mug down on the table, he said, "You're the last person I expected to see at this hour of the morning on a day when you don't have to go to work."

Sitting forward on the couch and picking up the mug, cradling it between her cold hands, Eames studied the liquid it contained. "I know. But I couldn't wait any longer and I knew you'd be up. Bobby --- "

Surprisingly, he didn't wait for her to continue, but said, softly and sadly, "What happened to us, Eames?"

Not expecting his interruption, she looked at him open-mouthed for a few seconds. "What?"

Leaning forward in his chair, elbows resting on knees, after rubbing his face with his hands he twined his fingers together. Sighing deeply, he continued, "How did we get to be so – so --- " He fumbled for the word he sought – "so _toxic_ to each other?"

Stunned by his choice of word to describe his perception of their relationship, she continued to just look at him for a few seconds, and then said, "Do you really feel that way, Bobby?"

"I didn't used to. I don't want to." He rubbed his face once again, then rose and wandered over to a section of shelves housing part of his overabundant book collection. "It's certainly not a word I ever thought would apply to us. And I know that I'm a thousand times more toxic to you than you could ever be to me." He turned back to face her once again, studying the somewhat apprehensive look that had settled over her pixie-like face. Shrugging his shoulders, he continued on, "Honestly? Eames, I don't know what to think anymore."

She opened her mouth to say something, but he held up his hand and she remained silent. "Let me finish, please." He rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, one of his "tells" indicative of his rising stress level. Taking a deep breath and releasing it, he said, "Things haven't been good between us, or for us, for some time. Nearly all of that is my fault. " He resumed his seat, once again resting his elbows on his knees and twisting his hands as he talked. "I --- I've given it a lot of thought over the last few days, Eames.' He raised his head, looking her fully in the eyes; she could see the shadows of emotional pain in their depths. " I've been wrong about the way I handled a lot of things, pushing you away, taking out my fears and frustrations on you. Part of – of my frustration with everything just before Thanksgiving was because I – I didn't feel I had the right to – _unburden_ myself to you about my mom, when you had your own problems you were trying to work through, trying to get your life back to some kind of normal after – after Jo Gage. So I kept it all in, tried to cope on my own." He picked up his coffee mug, taking a sip, then making a face – it had gone cold while he talked. Setting it back down on the table, he leaned back in the chair and looked at her again. "None of which is your fault. I never meant to smother you with the weight of my insecurities, or hold you back from achieving your goals, Eames. I – just wish you had ---- told me how you felt instead of dropping it on me like that." He paused briefly, taking a deep breath and blowing it out before he continued, "I didn't want to put you through reopening Joe's case, Eames. If there had been another way, believe me, I would have taken it. I know you resented my digging around in that part of your life --- " He stopped, rubbing both hands over his face, then lacing his fingers together. She noticed his hands were trembling slightly.

"Bobby, stop." She rose from her place on the couch, moving in front of him where she knelt and grasped his wrists in her small, strong hands. They barely reached halfway around. "Please -- stop a minute, Bobby." Surprised by her sudden movement and her new position, he just looked at her, wide-eyed. She could feel him tense beneath the touch of her fingers, and she held on with all her strength, to keep him from pulling away. "Look – First of all, I have to apologize to you for what I said to you." She paused, biting her lower lip as she thought briefly about how to continue, how to make him understand something she didn't fully understand herself. "I ---- truly don't know why I said that, Bobby. Maybe it was some lingering --- resentment, as you put it – from having to dig into Joe's case. Maybe I was just trying to be sarcastic, and it didn't quite come off that way. I was tired, mentally and physically, Leslie caught me off guard, and it just came out without thinking." Looking directly into his eyes, she continued on. "I probably should have let Ross take me off the Quinn case, Bobby. It --- drained me, physically and mentally, and it's taking time for me to -- to get my sense of balance back. I'm still not 100, and I just – let my smart mouth get ahead of me." Finally letting go of his wrists, she rose and perched on the edge of the coffee table directly in front of him. "I know we've been out of synch for a while, Bobby. A lot of that is because we've been caught up in – in circumstances neither of us had any control over." She gazed at her feet for a second, and then, looking back up at him, into his eyes, she said, "I do not want to end our partnership, Bobby. Once I decided to stay partners with you, I never gave another thought to the idea that you would taint my career in any way, and I don't feel that you have. As far as the brass is concerned, I do not want to be part of any group of people who bad-mouth you and call you names and try to keep us from doing the job on one hand but then on the other, are perfectly willing to parade the results front of God, the press and everybody else and talk about justice being served and the greatness of the NYPD." She rose from the table, walking around it to return to her seat on the couch. Leaning toward Bobby, who was watching her silently, rubbing his hand over his mouth, she said quietly, trying to keep the tremor from her voice and not quite succeeding, "Bobby – I truly am sorry for hurting you. I really didn't mean what I said, but I can see how you could take it the way you did, and ----" taking a deep breath, "I hope we can get beyond this and back to where we were before –" She stopped, flipping one hand in the air and letting if fall back into her lap, looking down at her hands.

Bobby sat and contemplated his partner for several minutes. He reflected that he had served with men in the Army, and other in the NYPD, who didn't have nearly the courage and fortitude Alex Eames possessed. She consistently put everyone else's needs before her own – the most evident proof of that being her nephew. He knew she had periods when she deeply regretted his loss to her sister, even though he wasn't Alex's own biologically and Alex could see him whenever she wanted to. And he couldn't even begin to calculate the what it took for her to come back to work so soon after her own kidnapping -- something for which he felt profoundly guilty, because he knew she came back too soon, and yet he had been so happy to have her back he selfishly accepted her return wth only a token protest about whether she was truly ready to be working again. Hell, _he _didn't have a tenth of Alex's courage.

He rose from his chair, walking over to sit beside her on the couch, taking one of her small hands in both of his own. "Alex – I shouldn't have gone off the way I did, either. But I've given it a lot of thought over the last several days – and I want us to get back to where we were before, too" -- _more than anything, _he thought to himself --- "but I can't help but wonder if that's even possible anymore."

She look up into his face from watching him rub her hand gently between his own. "Why, Bobby?" was all she said. He thought he saw the ghost of tears in her golden brown eyes.

He signed deeply, continuing to hold and rub her hand. "For one thing, because we're not the same people we were before--- before so many things. Your nephew, Jo Gage -- my mom – " _And if Brady really was my father, I have no idea who I am myself anymore --- _"And for another, I think – " here he paused, swallowing hard -- "You need to start thinking more about what you want and need for yourself to be happy and satisfied. I don't want you to look back in years to come and regret not doing things you could have done but didn't because I – I held you back."

She turned to more fully face him where they were sitting, laying her other hand on top of his. "Bobby – no one is forcing me to stay in this partnership, you know. For that matter, either one of us could choose to leave at any time. I thought – " she looked down at their joined hands, "I thought over the past few days you were going to do just that." She looked back up, into his shadowed, deep brown eyes.

He shook his head. "Not willingly. And if I had, it would have been because it was what I thought was best for both of us – but mostly for you. And because I thought it was what you wanted, especially after all that's happened over the past year, but couldn't bring yourself to say so."

She looked at him, surprised. "Bobby, when have I _ever_ been too shy to speak up for myself? Whatever gave you that idea?"

Releasing her hand, he stood, picking up their coffee mugs to refill. "The fact that Ross wanted to pull you off the Quinn case and one of the reasons you gave to persuade him to let you stay on was that I don't deal well with change." He looked down at her where she sat, a small, sad half smile on his lips. "Like I said, you need to start thinking more about what's best for yourself, and not for me or anyone else." He walked back into the kitchen.

She followed him as far as the counter, resuming her seat on the stool where her jacket hung. As she did so, her cell phone chirped. Sighing, she pulled it from the clip on her belt. "Eames – yes, Captain." She looked up at Bobby, who had turned to look at her from across the kitchen. "Yes – he's right here, sir. We've – been trying to talk things out. Yes. Yes. OK. Yes. We'll be there soon. Yes, sir." Replacing the phone on her belt, she said, "We've been requested by the Chief of Ds on a case. Diver's body washed up on the beach at Coney Island. They think there might be a terrorist connection."

Bobby nodded. "I'll get changed." Starting to walk by, he stopped, leaning over slightly to look into her eyes once more. "We'll talk more later, OK?"

"Definitely".……………..

A.N. And this is where I'm going to leave it. While it seems from "Depths" there may have been some discussion between the two of them, there are still a lot of unresolved issues, not the least of which is Bobby's doubtful paternity ----- and Alex's seemingly chronic, low-grade post-partum depression, if there is such a thing. Thanks to all for the support and the reviews, they were very much appreciated.


End file.
